


Scapegoat

by Audio_Transmitting, lauciotz



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Cheritz surely hates the Chois..., How could he do ALL THOSE and still be recognized as a benefactor, I went mad after watching V's AE, OMG!! SCATTERED ABOUT!!, Other, V's AE spoiler alert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 14:32:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17899919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audio_Transmitting/pseuds/Audio_Transmitting, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauciotz/pseuds/lauciotz
Summary: Start from the beginning of V's after story.What even if V told Seven about Saeran's survival before his leaving?





	Scapegoat

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Scapegoat](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/460289) by Lauciotz_Choi. 



［We found remnants of DNA that matched with those of Luciel］

［scattered about in the remains of Magenta］

 

 

 

707 stiffened on seeing these bubbled out.

Playbacks are flooding into his brain, then hovering there, so are the thoughts crowding in. Something's screaming with them, making his whole mind boiling.

 

No.

Please，please... THAT CAN’T BE...

Suddenly, the smartphone screen turns black. He notices he's pressing on the power button.

Hey, let it go. Echos his reason.

Fuck off, Reason.

 

The screen was slightly deformed against his numb thumb. Ignoring tiny cracking noises, he stares at the screen.

"Press on ‘Yes’ to shut down all the current processes." A notice pops up.

Then he laughs.

"Agent 707?" From a distance, there come sounds of stepping on dead branches in hurrying runs, "Hey, Agent 707?"

While 707 is too absent-minded to respond.

 

"The former phone call, okay, it doesn't that matter but - I mean, hey, can you hear me? Respond, please, if you do hear, Agent 707! "

Someone seems to be yelling. 707 hummed to himself.

 

Every word seems to be comprehensable, yet astonishingly uncomprehensable when put together. He recalls his first time using a laptop. So many letters, awkwardly crowded on a small black window.

The fear to unknown is so tear-running scary that, when forced to face it, he's always seeking his backbone. No matter how bad it became, there were always hands for Saeyoung to seize, and he was fully aware of it.

The hands that patted him, poured warm water in a glass for him. The person that kept him accompanied when he struggled with who-knows-what's-written-on-it manuals. All the negative feelings were expelled from him every time he saw his twin brother, and then his heart would be re-filled with gentleness.

****And now, all's gone.** **

 

707 doesn't know how he managed to have stumbled his way into the forest. . It's so dim here, not even a trace of light shines in, despite of the mid-day grilling sun outside, with all the tree branches, spreading out in competitions.

So dark, so tranquil.

His glasses are gone. Luckily, they are hung on a branch not so far, swinging, like an funny mime actor.

707 tries to stand on his feet, but end up collapsing on to a tree trunk.

Very well, great. No more sunshine. Agent 707 hates sunshine.

He barely sees and his head is aching. His brain has been thrown into a working blender, numerous colors stirring in it. One after another, they are twisting and flashing maddeningly. Starting from a bruise-like purple, then weathering like an air-exposed mummies, quickly faded into a fascinating malachite green, and finally dyed to a dry-blood brown...

Ah, dry-blood brown.

 

His back is burning like it's on fire, sweat on the scratches make it worse for shoulders. He doesn't frown, though. 707 puts on that pair of glasses, yet his sight is still in blur.

So dark here.

He licks his lips unconsciously.

The rough and cold feedback from touching tree trunk dazzles him. He cannot tell it is from leaves or from Saeran's approach.

A shivering whisper comes: "Sae...Saeyoung, it's so dark."

"I, uh ..." 707 swallowed back his swearing. Saeran is now with him.

The alarm is on. His brain is breaking down. While his mind is as sharp as always, which he hates a lot for now.

He wants to flee, to cover his ears, to disappear from this planet.

Starve, be crushed, be hunger, or plug his head into a hornet's nest to death.

Not enough, not even close, not worth a mention...

__

__［scattered about in the remains of Magenta.］_ _

 

How can one be scattered about?

 **_**_How much blood is needed to_ ** _ ** **_**_..._ ** _ ** **_**_create this scene?_ ** _ **

**_**** _ **

It hurts him to think about it. However, it does seem to give the Agent 707 a courage adequate to stand up again, instead of pampering himself to rot up here with his wounds untreated.

First step.

Follows a second one.

Agent707 gets rid of the sweat on his forehead with his hand back, wandering in the dark, aimlessly.

 

Saeran liked sweets. He remembers. Once, they sneaked out, hid in a corner, stared at a popcorn machine for half an hour. Happiness back then was so simple: leaning to each other, watching golden grains explode with a "Boom! Bang!", cheering for a white fountain spouting.

__［Popcorns, popcorns were scattered about...］_ _

 

"Boom! Bang!"

How would it be, if the corn grains were replaced with...a ** _ ** _human body_**_**?

It hurt!

It hurt!

With all the flames, the explosion, how hurt it was!

****How hurt did you feel, Saeran...** **

 

Saeran wasn't as used to pain, as Saeyoung was back then. Saeran was vulnerable. He cried a lot, sicked a lot. Saeyoung always knows that. He remembers, Saeran sobbed every time when beaten by mom, even he turned nine year's old. He'd flee to him, sobbing, then duck his head in between his knees, hugging himself and be silent for several hours. It's only when you were to leave that you would find your clothe clutched, in his fist.

 

"Boom! Bang!"

Knocked down by a tree trunk on the forehead, 707 fells down again. His phone escapes his hand. He scoops it up, then stirs it from one hand to the other, like it's too hot to hold.

He hesitates. He dare not to. But he stares on, still, where RFA notices are popping up.

These are his remnants in this world.

Which indirectly resulted in Saeran's death.

 

707 tastes rust from biting his own lip, Trembling, his expression distorted, while his eyes look like an abandoned child. More precisely, a mercilessly thrown-away child.

Nope, he wasn't the one who's thrown away.

Him, Agent 707, Luciel Choi, Saeyoung Choi.

 ** **He's nothing but a joke, an awful one.****  All he's been endeavoring was in vain, which has put his beloved brother in pain. He is the trash to be thrown away, a fool, a ... a damned what so ever.

 

Notices pop up unceasingly on the screen. He's coughing. He covers his neck with hands, choking air in through his burning throat. The air from the forest drawn in and out messages his vocal cord. It doesn't work. The cord is too arrogant to tremble. This pain is too slight to make it function again.

Unstoppable tides of chills exploding from deep of his body, sweep him over one after another. 707 knows his heart is still functioning, although now experiencing some kind of non-fatal disorder. His blood is dancing to stochastically generated heartbeats, spreading wildfire along his veins. It must be like attending the last mafia carnival for it, the precious red flow is running restlessly. The gangsters are celebrating it so cheerfully that they are thrusting themselves on his skin from inside, constantly.

 

 _ _So__ _ _dizzy__ _ _I feel__ _ _.__  He inhaled, then thought to himself. It was such a weak body that I have possessed.

Against his will, his finger press on the red button.

In less than 3 second, Jumin's Avatar pops up again.

 

Don't you have a least concept of "Reading the Air", dear entreprise heir? Can't you see " ** _ ** _I am not in any fxxking mood to talk_**_** "? Oh, yeah, you don't have to, I get it. The world bends itself over you, Cat Mom. Cuz you're blessed to be born with expectations.

707 makes another press on scarlet "Refuse" button.

 

Several minutes passes. It finally comes to an end. No more phone calls. Great.

 

Suddenly, a thought strikes him. He grabbed the phone in despair, actually clutching it insanely hard. Screen unlocked! Almost pierced his finger tips into screen, he dials the number...

1, 4, 7...

Closing eyes, praying for a miracle, he adpresses the phone onto his ear.

Please, mercy!

 

**_**_"The number you're dialing is ..."_ ** _ **

 

707 lowered his eyes. He is glaring at that mint-color-hair avatar, trying to have a check on SOMETHING. It hurts. It hurts to glare without blinking.

The glare finally decays into a simpler stare, a blank tearless one.

Call session is auto-ceased at the end of the record. Contacts Page appears.

Not a normal one, it's been twisted by an invisible hand. Once-familiar Korean words line up and salute him sarcastically:

“Hey! ”

”Clown, Fool, Liar, Bastard, A damned-yet-still-disgustingly-alive! ”

 

**_**_[He thought he was the scapegoat，but he has been wrong.］_ ** _ **

 

Agent707 thought he could sit at the table of Lord's Supper. He thought himself deserved mercy on his aching soul.

He's wrong.

ALL HIS THOUGHTS TURN OUT ALL WRONG.

He has once been so grateful to feast himself. It turns out that what he's eaten is nothing __**but the flesh of his own beloved little brother**__ **.**

The nameless but powerful hacker, the one who SCATTERED himself about, the one who sent nothing but a clueless message 'U WIN'.

 

 ****How** ** ****does**  he dare, to **be still alive?****

707 chuckles at the screen and press on the button, which appeared with a good timing.

 

"Luciel! "

He picks up the phone and listens silently.

 

"Luciel! Luciel! Are you hearing?"

So soft and so sweet, he recognizes her voice.

"Listen, Luciel. RAY IS ALIVE! He's breathing! He's fine now! V's taking... Hey, are you chuckling?"

 

His chuckle gradually grows up to breathless laughter.

"Luciel? " MC asked, sounding confused, "Are you still listening? "

"Yeah, go ahead. " Said Agent 707.

 

He has almost laughed his lung out, with his throat burning like in hell. He just can't help it. __How can he stop?__ He has long forgotten what is the so-called joy. he's just been laughing and keeping wiping his laughed-out tears, torturing himself like he had enjoyed this kind of fake happiness before.

 

Oh, please! Please! Mercy, please! __Just let me die without being noticed__ , please!

 

Agent 707 wanted to shout, to yell, or just to scream. Nothing will be conveyed, if there is ever someone so bothered as to listen, but his unbearable agony and anger. You tell me Saeran is FINE? 707 is desperately willing to destroy THOSE existences with everything he is able to lay hands on. In horrifying laughter, smash them and watch them being scattered about, watch them following the exact route where his twin was ...

 

__scattered about! scattered about!_ _

SCATTERED ABOUT!!!

 

****His brother is covered in blood! His brother is dying! His brother has been suffering all of these hellish shits! While the culprit is beaming to his new life, prepared to welcome his peace and joy!** **

WHY! WHY!!

What have they done to deserve these? To what kind of unspeakable sin have they committed, to be so damned?

Someone hisses harshly, and yelling at him with a glace-scratching-like voice: "Why do you still trouble yourself to be alive, Saeyoung Choi? Mad-alcoholic-mom-and-hypocritical-careerist-born bastard? Such a coward! Useless trash!"

 

He's nobody now.

Or... finally nothing now.

 

Were it in a NetFlix series, he'd only open GPS, feed his barrel with exact __four__ bullets - two for the ex-couple, one for the hypocrite, and one for himself. No more and no less.

But he is nobody but stupid and weak 707.

 

"Luciel, I'm not able to feel the same but, I do have something to give you. Two in total..."

 

To feel the same.

Were it not the girl who he once fancied a little bit, or better, if it should be the one with whom she's drawing her life blueprint, 707 would shoot him on the head. Oh God, he almost laughed his ass off. The terrifying laughter deepened from the scary-but-acceptable "Ha”s to howling from a beast, a caged and injured one.

The air’s puffing from his injured throat, wails come out with it.

Ha, "to feel the same"... does it matter anymore?

Saeran...

My scattered-about twin.

My once-cute-and-gentle brother.

 

****Dare you tell me how to make him smile as he did？** **

 

"...humm, the first one was a Chrismas gift. You remember? The one you gave Saeran at XMas three or four years ago. I got it from, err, never mind. It wasn't sent to him because, err you know, something like out of safety concern. But you can give it to him now! I'm absolutely sure Ray will be utterly happy on receiving it!"

 

Seven can tell from the trembling voice that MC is trying to pick out words that won't irritate him, despite he does feel worse for her carefulness.

 

"And Ray, or more precisely, Saeran, has prepared a present for you a long time ago, too."

"..."

"Yeah, a present. I think you may be happy to have it."

"..."

"Hang on. Could you please check your network first? I'm sending them. Saeran will be frustrate if you failed to get them."

"..."

"OK, it’s done. Keep in touch, Luciel! "

 

 

Du...Du...

 

With his mobile phone kissing the ground, Agent 707 was silenced at the end of the phone call.

 

 

 

 - TBC -

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is Audio_Transmitting (*^▽^*) 
> 
> I’ve been enjoying reading Mytic Messenger fan fictions on AO3 so much that I’m now translating some Lofter works from Chinese into English. As I barely have a working knowledge on English(while apparently I’m surely the one with the thickest skin), it’s very generous for Lauciotz to have granted me with translation permissions.
> 
> Don’t hesitate to leave me comments or messages if you find it cute/OOC/not-well-translated.


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